Adrift in my wordless sea, I was trying to read their minds, as if feeling for the ground.

What did they mean, when they uttered these strange sounds?

Their intention was shown by their bodily movements: the expression of their faces, the play of their eyes, the movement of other parts of their bodies, and, especially, the tones of their voices; which, I dimly now perceived, expressed their states of mind in seeking, having, or rejecting something.

In this way, as I heard words repeatedly used in their proper places in various sentences, I gradually learned to understand what objects they signified; and after I had trained my mouth to form these signs, I used them to express my own desires.

It was then I began to have a feeling for the ground. I walked a great deal, mostly alone, perhaps mostly on a hill, or then again it may have been a small mountain. Certainly it seemed solid enough. As the scenery passed by, I could now put words to it; there was a sense of dwarf mastery in this; the achievements of the mind have their own satisfactions. However minor, however transitory. But before very much more time had passed, I realized I retained a powerful longing for the open sea from which I had come. This feeling of longing has remained with me to this day.

a wracker (from wrecker) was the name given to/taken by the inhabitants of block island located off the coast of long island, ny near montauk during the 1800’s-1900’s who made their living off the salvage of the many wrecks which came to grief on the treacherous reefs and rocks along with their cargoes which washed ashore.

i wonder if they still go by that name. it feels like it kind of fits my life.